The dancing balls of light about the sports hall beamed onto their faces. Cebrice panted. Runiek on the ground glared up at him. He wanted to help her up as if to say that it was all in good sport but didn't think she would appreciate it. She pulled herself up, not meeting his eyes.

Runiek’s mind was filled with uncertainty and frustration. She couldn’t believe that Cebrice had beaten her. He tried to express that he barely believed it himself. Her thoughts were confused. “I’m going to be alone,” was all she sent to him.

He replied that he understood. It wouldn’t be easy for her to accept defeat. She had never been that kind of person. He hoped that he wasn’t wrong about all this. There was a chance she would emerge from her isolation even more furious and seek revenge. Well, a little revenge would be fine, he supposed.

She left the room, and he stood there. He didn’t know what he expected, he realized. It wasn’t as if he’d help her up, share a hug and become besties on the spot. That wasn’t how this worked. He had done as his teacher had instructed him to. He had thought through what motivated people and spoken their language. But did it help?

He head back down the hall they had come from. He noticed that the spear was gone from the hallway. Did Runiek take it? It was what they had been fighting over, after all. He imagined she did, and it gave him hope. But then, it was just as possible that it had been removed by someone else. Or perhaps she took it just to get rid of it. He kept walking. He reminded himself that he had no control over that.

He went to his room and looked at the two daggers that he had for Beltal and Mofrim. He needed to take a moment before he went to them. He held his feather pillow and curled around it on the bed, staring across at the names on the wall.

What would the pack look like in a few years? They would be graduating from their training soon, and then where would they go together? They would get jobs as a group, Elder Issik had said. What would they even be doing? Whatever the Family asked of them, was his only answer and consolation.

'We will find what drives you', Rohchec had said. He hoped that he would be driven in the right direction. He had no clue where he was being driven to. Cebrice thought he knew who he was a week ago, but he felt like his experience had changed him so much since then. He couldn't imagine what the future could bring. He considered going for more practice down with the oxen, but the farmers must have them sleeping by now. He was sure he’d have to perform the next day, and the thoughts put knots in his stomach. Or was that hunger?

He crawled up from his bed and combed his curly hair with his fingers. Driven by the need to feast the problems out of his mind, he made his way to the mess hall. His bare feet pattered against the cool stone. As he rounded a corner he saw light coming from beyond the open arch of the mess hall. He wasn't sure who he would be running into, and so was slow to come around the frame of the arch.

Mofrim and Beltal were already there sitting along by the table. They were quiet, verbally, laughter breaking their outward silence with one another on occasion. A dream manifest of an orange fire had been set in the frame of the stove. The illusion provided extra warmth and comfort to the space. The shadows on their faces danced. The two of them had gotten comfortable. They had a foot upon the bench each and turned to lean on the table and towards the fake fire. There were a few glass bottles on the table alongside an arrangement of food. A couple of the bottles were empty.

They stopped laughing as he walked in. He almost wanted to turn around, after interrupting a private moment.

“Hey!” Beltal said to him instead. “The victor has come to celebrate! Pull up a seat, Cebby!”

“She told you?” Cebrice was mortified by the idea.

“She didn’t so much as tell. Her room is beside Mofrim’s,” Beltal explained.

Mofrim waved, taking a sip from a bottle. He seemed happy enough for him to join.

Snacks were laid out on the table. Various kinds of hard cheese and cured strips of dark beef and pork were arranged for them. One of the trays had slices of chopped fruits. Another had round crusty bread rolls in white and brown. A bowl contained a mound of butter splattered with crumbs from their feasting. The warm fire and all the food made a very convincing argument, so Cebrice sat on the bench. Although, he was not quite as comfortable as them.

“We raided the kitchens, but they won't mind. Don’t worry Cebby, take one!” Beltal offered him a drink across the table.

He believed her and took the dark brown bottle. He pulled out the stopper and took a sip. It was very sweet and warm, almost sickly. But he didn't dislike it. He found it went very well with the food on the boards, and he tucked in.

They were pleased that he took some. He started by picking up some of the bread. He ripped it apart with his fingers and pushed slices of cheese and meat into it. He tried to fit as much in his mouth as he could before breaking it off, washing it down with the drink.

"How did you do it?" they asked him.

"Hm? Do what?" He was busy eating and it took him a moment to understand what he was being asked. Well, he knew how. Runiek hadn’t been paying enough attention. It would have been easy for her to win if she hadn’t been so absorbed by her attacks. But he wanted to be clear to them that she could have destroyed him if she had done things differently. He wasn't stronger than her. It felt important for some reason to clarify that.

Something about Beltal’s question seemed bloodthirsty. He didn’t want to create a rift between the pack or anything. They were only curious, or so they said. But their surface thoughts were rarely the whole truth.

Mofrim in particular was rarely so open, so it was strange to share in his thoughts that night. He was a nice guy to Cebrice at least, and he wouldn't forget how he stood by him against the insect. But Mofrim kept to himself or stayed with Beltal most of the time. The two of them were like a pack in themselves. To be there with them in their inner circle felt like a privilege.

"Don’t blame us for that," Beltal thought. "You could have spent time with us."

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried though. In the early days of their pack, he had tried to see if he could spend time with them. Despite being with them, he never felt like he was welcome. Beltal had always been intimidating, by the fact of being so much better than the rest of them. Mofrim was not as intimidating, as quiet as he was. He had been a tower of a person, high and unapproachable. It had always seemed to Cebrice that only Beltal had the key.

Mofrim watched Cebrice. He had a few drinks, and it slipped through the cracks of his wall that he felt disappointed at the information.

"And now? Do you feel more comfortable with us now?" Beltal was amused and chuffed that she was intimidating. She took it as a compliment.

"Well, I guess? Over the years you've gotten..." He couldn't think of the right word, so he felt the sense of what he meant.

"Nicer?" Beltal added.

"I guess that’s a word for it. Less conceited might be more what he means," Mofrim said with a smirk.

"You both better apologize, I’m plenty nice." She said.

She did always try to bolster him up, and Cebrice appreciated that. Beltal took that as proof.

Mofrim laughed. "Is it though? Bel’s so two-faced."

"Aww Mofrim, don’t!"

Cebrice’s heart sank at the implications. But he wasn’t surprised and had to carry on, as he always had. “Oh, I got you presents,” Cebrice remembered. He asked them to wait for a second and bolted back to his room to pick up the two daggers made for them. The cold floor was so much less welcoming than the warmth of the illusory fire.

He presented them to the two, one in each hand. They each took a dagger and unsheathed it there before the firelight. The pale chitin blade shone in the wavering glint.

They turned them over with interest. Mofrim leaned back in his chair and peered into his. Beltal tried hers out on the corner of the table, cutting a short line. It was plenty sharp enough to leave an impression without much pressure. Satisfied, she sheathed it again.

“Thanks, Cebby,” Beltal said with a smile. “It was very thoughtful of you.”

Mofrim looked up from the blade. "Yeah, thanks."

“We took it down together. We never would have encountered the prey without you, Beltal. And Mofrim, you lead us to her. And… We’re pack, after all, right?”

“Of course!” Beltal replied although she must have understood where he was coming from.

Everything that Runiek had said had stuck with him. A part of him was never secure about how they might see him. After the last few days, it seemed almost undeniable that they hadn't seen him the same as them, at least before. He didn't know how they saw him now.

Mofrim took a long drink. He wished that he could have said more before it came to this, but he didn't. With his walls lowered, Cebrice could see that.

"I know now at least that you aren’t going to be holding us back. At least not for very long in the future. You’re getting there, and I'm proud of you. Really. Mofrim is too, although he won't say it," Bel told him.

They were proud of him? He smiled despite himself. He tried to flatten his hair down. It bounced back up again. “Well, I don’t know about that. I still haven’t been able to replicate what I did before. I’ll have to, for my new teacher tomorrow, and I’m worried I won’t be able.”

“I might not be able to help with the command ability. Never could get a grip on that. But know that we’ll help you however we can, ok?” Mofrim said with a nod to him. He finished his bottle and placed it on the table.

There had always been a distance between him and the other members of his pack. This new feeling of acceptance was still shocking and overpowering. He nodded, holding himself together.

“Aw, Ceb,” Beltal said. “You were always one of us. A really annoying and self-pitying one, but we always accepted you.”

The insults gave him mixed emotions. Although Beltal did mean what she said, he couldn’t help but wonder if that acceptance was reluctant. It was only because they were forced to be together that they were, after all. As nice as it sounded, it was muddied and filled with his insecurities and shadows. “Thanks,” he said, anyway.

"Oh, here she comes," Mofrim thought to him. He and Beltal started to suppress laughter like schoolchildren. Beltal clutched her bottle towards her chest as if to contain it. Cebrice turned to where they were looking.

Runiek wavered at the entrance to the mess hall, seeing them all together without her. She looked as though she had been upset. She turned and walked away again.

Cebrice got up in a panic. Beltal giggled into Mofrim’s shoulder. Their thoughts were teasing and weren’t kind to Runiek or him, but he tried to ignore them.

He went with Runiek out of the mess hall. She hadn't gone far outside and paused when she heard him come after her. Thankfully, the thick walls blocked the thoughts of the other two from messing with him.

"I had wanted to talk to you, but I see you were busy." She sounded defeated.

"Let's talk then. I was just eating food, that's all," he told her.

She nodded. There was something stiff in the way she walked with him, and she didn’t say a word until they got to her room. It was still a mess. The floor was covered in tossed aside clothes and wrappings. Cups lined her table. She didn't look much more put together herself after their fight. Her hair was messy and her braid had been pulled open. She turned to him.

“Listen.” She linked up their minds to express herself. She was sorry that she had called him weak. She had felt that way in the past, but it wasn’t fair. Not when she knew she was the weakest. Now that he had asserted himself, she couldn’t deny it any longer.

She wasn’t weak, he told her. She was stronger than Cebrice was. She listened, wanting to hear what he felt. He felt that she had been right to say so. But he wanted them to be equals, and she wouldn't let them. He had wanted to stand up for himself, and to be given some respect. He didn’t want them to be fighting anymore. But had it worked? Were they still fighting?

“We aren't fighting. And you’re just scared. More scared than we are. Maybe you’re more sensible about it. I mean, there’s plenty to be afraid of. I know that. I might be an idiot, but I know that much.”

“No, you're not. You're right. I am scared. I was scared to stand up for you, and I still am. I know that it’s bullshit, but It’s the truth. Elder Issik… I’m here for my pack, but my loyalty has to go to them too. He puts us in situations like that to test us. He wanted to see how me and Mofrim would react to him teasing us about you. I failed, no matter what way I answered, I would fail."

“I know… I shouldn't have asked that of you. Elder Issik has always been like that. When we were little, I used to swear I’d kill him. Funny huh? I’ve always been stupid.”

“No. You haven’t been stupid, Rune. You’ve been brave, and good. And you’ve always cared about us, in your own way. Even me. At least, I always thought you did.”

“I’ve been reckless. But I was just so desperate. I’ve been desperate to be someone here. Beltal was always the star, and I was always trying to be half as good as she was - since we both specialize in the same way. When I was a kid, I was the strong one. And then Beltal. She could overshadow everyone. I don’t know why she has the ancestors favour more than me, but she does. I guess you being weaker than me in this group made me feel better about myself. Sounds awful, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t know.” Maybe it did. It was hard to say. For Cebrice all she had done was state what he felt was obvious. How that made her feel he supposed didn’t matter much to him in the long run. He wondered if it should.

“I wonder if I’ll ever be able to fulfil that wish of my younger self,” Runiek said. Elder Issik has always been such a force in their lives. The idea of any of them being as strong as him, let alone stronger, seemed unbelievable.

It seemed to Cebrice that even by talking about this that he was somehow doing something wrong. They were not nearly strong enough to challenge an Elder. At least not until they had worked for the Family and proven themselves. But they were only dreaming. Surely, there was no harm in thinking about it. Although Cebrice knew that even thoughts had consequences.

“Maybe we just focus on getting training,” Cebrice said. He wished to change the conversation in the direction it was going. He didn't want to shut Runiek down either, but he couldn't give her the answer she'd want.

Runiek took the spear from against the wall and took a seat. It had been hiding beside her wardrobe, and that handle had caught his eye. Cebrice was happy to see that she had been the one to pick it up. She ran her hand over the engravings on the shaft of the spear and chuckled. Her thoughts were bloody. “I don’t care what comes of it. He knows that I want to kill him, and maybe someday that will come true. But he also knows I’ll do what he wants me to." She spun the spear around to look at it and then placed it back against the wall. "It’s strange like that. Just like you have to agree with him, too. I’ll do what he wants. I'm terrified not to. That’s what made me so angry. You can act afraid, while we all are, but we don’t show it. That's the only real difference.”

Cebrice wasn't sure what to say to that. He wanted to be there for her. For all of them. The thing was, he did care what came of her going against the Elder. He didn't want any of them getting hurt. “I’m not a great help in a battle, yet. But I hope to become better. I’m not sure how, but I don’t want to let anyone down. I’m not scared of the monster or getting hurt, at least, not physically. Not as much as I’m afraid of letting you all down - but I keep doing it. I'm not strong enough to help anyone.”

“You haven’t let us down. Sure you’re crap at training. But when it mattered, you’ve come through. I’m the one who let us down; when it mattered, I screwed up immediately. Even Beltal let us down. Mofrim hasn’t either, but he’s a different case altogether,” She said.

“I don’t think you let us down. I think you went out and fought.” Cebrice said.

She gave a sad smile. He could feel the weight of that topic getting too much for her. She had had a long day, and she was tired. She wanted to end things on a brighter note. “Well. I think that’s enough sap from us, don’t you? Let's go back to the mess hall. Maybe I'll try and get some cheese before those two eat it all."

He smiled back at her. He thought to her that she wasn’t as bad as she seemed to think. But he agreed. “Let’s get snacks. And let’s meet up more together in the future, okay?”

Her smile lost some of its sadness. “Sure.”

When they arrived back at the mess hall, Beltal and Mofrim cheered and laughed at them. Cebrice found himself laughing too, in the moment. They sat down together and had a toast, a bottle each. They ate and drank for another hour or two into the evening.

Eventually, they crawled into their beds to be up for training the next morning. Cebrice felt tired from the long day, if not a little drunk. He was happy with the results of his efforts. He felt as though tomorrow would bring him back to reality, so he almost didn’t want to sleep. Runiek's confession verged on heresy, and he hoped that the Elder wouldn't take it to heart. He needed to work on his walls if he was going to be keeping secrets. And tomorrow was another lesson with Rohchec. He didn't get any practice in that evening - but he doubted it would have made much difference.